


Transient

by bearonthecouch



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anders' Electricity Trick (Dragon Age), F/M, Ice Play, Longing, Magic, One Night Stands, Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:35:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29768721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearonthecouch/pseuds/bearonthecouch
Summary: The Pearl isn't a place for staying.
Relationships: Anders/Isabela (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Transient

“Mmmph,” Anders moans, as Isabela's lips crush his. Her hand presses against the center of his chest, holding him flat down on the bed. He gasps, trying to suck in air enough to breathe, and his cheeks are flushed red when she finally releases him. She flashes him a quick wink, and then begins trailing kisses down his neck and then his bare chest. He shivers under the heat of the contact. He kicks helplessly against the bedsheets tangled around his ankles, until Isabela bites at his nipple, and he cries out. She laughs, a tinkling of pure joy, and her smile is radiant when she turns it on him. She sinks down atop his waiting erection, and lets out a low moan as she settles around his hips. Anders shifts position to allow himself to angle his thrusts to hit the spot that makes her beg for more. She slaps at his naked skin as she rides him to climax, and his breathing comes in hitched gasps as he struggles to control himself. Isabela presses herself down atop him as he spends himself inside of her. Her eyes are bright, sparkling with delight, and the wicked grin on her face nearly makes Anders ready to go again.

Isabela rolls over onto her back, sighing happily as Anders takes her breast into his mouth and begins to suck. With his other hand he strokes between her legs, thumb pressing at her clit, stroking with practiced skill. He calls a spark of lightning to the surface of his skin and lets it play. Isabela yells, throwing her head back as every muscle in her body goes tense and rigid. She's shaking in his arms as he lets the electricity fade.

“Fuck!” she exclaims, and her gasps for air make Anders's whole body tingle with anticipation. He threads his fingers through her tangled, sweaty hair, and laughs as she pushes him down again. “Do it again,” she begs him. A wicked grin lights up his face, and he rolls over, easily flipping Isabela so that she's underneath him. He holds her down easily with the heel of one hand pressing down on her shoulder, and with his free hand he circles her already hardened nipple with another magic spell, this one trailing crystals of ice behind his touch.

Isabela writhes underneath him, and lets loose a string of what are probably curses in a language he doesn't know. He laughs, then casts another electricity spell as he lets his hand wander down toward Isabela's nether regions.

He can feel his mana dwindling as he expends most of his power and concentration trying to maintain the precision control required to perform his current task. He lets the spell fade, but Isabela doesn't complain as he continues to use his fingers to bring her to the brink yet again. She whimpers and pleads with nonsense words as his fingers move inside of her, his thumb circling her clit with gentle pressure. She bites back a scream as she comes, and Anders grins as he settles back on his heels to watch her stretch out languorously in front of him, taking up nearly the whole bed as she stretches and yawns with a playful glint in her eye. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are half closed, but he knows that she is far from tired. Still, he tucks himself into what little space she's left for him, and rolls onto his stomach.

Anders sleeps curled up into a fetal ball, but neither he nor Isabela are actually sleeping. He lets her trace her fingers gently up his back, following the white trace-lines of old scar tissue from a long-ago punishment he doesn't want to talk about. She hums to herself, a half-formed question, but says nothing aloud. Anders reaches out to trace Isabela's cheek, and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He meets her eyes, just briefly, but the moment feels so intimate that it rips him raw. He breaks to a sitting position, putting his bare feet on the rough wooden floor and pressing down on the mattress with the palms of his hands.

Isabela places a hand gently on his shoulder. “Hey,” she asks, her voice a song tinged with a beautiful note of concern. Anders can't remember anyone caring about him, not for years. “You alright?”

He nods, although he isn't. There is a jagged lump in his throat and he can't make it go away. He reaches out with his foot toward the tunic and breeches he'd thrown to the floor earlier, and pulls them closer. “I can't stay,” he manages to choke out. She has to know that.

“Okay,” she says softly, quiet agreement.

The Pearl isn't a place for staying. But her hand still rests on his shoulder, and she won't pull away.

Her confident touch slides away as Anders stands up and begins dressing himself. She pulls back her hair and replaces her bandana as he does so, though she is still naked from the neck down and doesn't seem in any great hurry to change that.

“Where are you going to go?” she asks him.

He shrugs. He doesn't know. He never knows.

He stands there, shielded by his clothing and by his arms crossed in front of him and by his bowed head, with his hair falling in front of his face. He would like nothing more than to spend the night here, with her, but his mind and body resist, every instinct inside of him screaming that sex is sex, and nothing more, not ever. There are no templars here to threaten him, yet still his freedom is a fragile, fleeting thing.

Isabela steps toward him until she's just behind him, and she wraps her arms around his waist. She tilts her head up, and with a gentle touch pulls his lips down to meet hers. She smells like the sea, and like some exotic mix of spices Anders can only dream of. She smells like sex and sweat, and his breath hitches in his chest as his body tenses with desire.

“Don't forget me,” she breathes into his ear, and her fingers dance along his shoulderblade before disappearing.

He shakes his head, a promise. “I won't,” he swears. And his fingers close around the doorknob, pulling it open to reveal the hallway beyond. He slips into the narrow gap and doesn't look back.


End file.
